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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22751635">Beautiful Red Chrysanthemums</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visionairz/pseuds/Catoukin'>Catoukin (Visionairz)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Albert DaSilva Whump, Blood and Gore, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:34:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22751635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visionairz/pseuds/Catoukin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s impossible to hide everything.</p>
<p>For a while there will be that sense of security, that sense of safety knowing no one knows. But soon enough that wall begins to crumple. At first it’s only bits and pieces here and there. A tiny secret about that one night after the party, the small cut from the fire escape; a torn picture that fell from an open wallet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beautiful Red Chrysanthemums</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="post-content">
<p></p><div class="body-text"><p>The fact that Albert has managed to keep his secret for so long is a miracle in itself. He’s managed to do whatever he could to keep it from the public eye. Whether it was blaming his coughing on the flu or swallowing everything that came up only to wretch later, he did what he could. If word got out what was happening to him, he’d be done for.</p>
<p>It was why he was now shaking behind a dumpster in some backend alleyway.</p>
<p>Albert collapsed to his knees, one arm clutching his stomach and the other propped up on the brick wall. Saliva dripped from his mouth as he struggled to breathe. Each inhale was ragged and short, barely getting him enough oxygen. His eyes fluttered while his head spun. Nothing was staying in focus. Not his thoughts or the pile of bloodstained chrysanths mixed with bile.</p>
<p>Beads of sweat rolled down the back of his neck despite the cool autumn air. It was sickening, knowing that he was soiling his clothing with his own sweat and blood.</p>
<p>Another shiver passed over Albert. His stomach lurched and the next thing he knew, he was vomiting. The horrid mix of petals and his lunch gathered on the cement below him. The smell of it was enough to make Albert’s nausea grow.</p>
<p>Albert’s purging was quickly cut off by coughing. He was barely able to breathe in when he kept hacking. Soon, new petals came up and out of his mouth, dropping to the ground soaked in blood. They dropped like pebbles, each one falling as quickly as they came up. Petal after petal to the point when he managed to inhale, he only sucked them back in and started to choke.</p>
<p>The choking soon led to more vomiting to the point he could barely hold himself up at the same time.</p>
<p>His hand was now pressed against the wall, his fingers curling into the brick as he tried to hold on. A sharp pain soon burst down from his fingertips as Albert pressed his nails even harder into the stone. They bent and tore, leaving an open path to the rough stone beneath. Slowly but surely, blood started to gather there as well.</p>
<p>Finally, the flowers stopped.</p>
<p>Albert sucked in a ragged breath and closed his eyes. His hold on the wall loosened as he leaned forward, resting his head against the bricks. The familiar tingle of tears is what pulled him back to reality. With each one that fell, he was brought closer to awareness until he was thrown back into the moment.</p>
<p>He shuddered and opened his bleary eyes. The world remained out of focus, warping and twisting every time he blinked.</p>
<p>It took a while for his heartrate to slow. Albert sat there shaking for what felt like ages. A cool breeze bit at his arms and sent a large shiver throughout his body.</p>
<p>Eventually, he was able to sit back and look at the mess he made. As he stared, his vision began to clear and he could make out just what exactly lay before him: the petals of a red chrysanthemum.</p>
<p>Albert grimaced at the sight. How ironic.</p>
<p>It’s not like they’re anything new. They’ve been around the whole time, but he had been hoping that one day maybe they’d change to something less torturous.</p>
<p>It took him ages to figure out what they meant. He snuck into flower shops to try and find a match for nights on end. He even stole a booklet about what each flower meant at one point until finally he figured out what they were called. As Albert searched further, he soon came across their meaning:</p>
<p>
      <em>The red chrysanthemum: a sign of love and accentuated passion.</em>
    </p>
<p>Love. His love for that idiotic boy who always told those stupid jokes. The boy who always teased him in the mornings about stupid dreams; the boy whose smile made Albert’s heart flutter every time.</p>
<p>Passion. Oh how passionate Albert was about the boy. He always tried to get the boy to smile and be happy. He made an effort to be around him throughout the day and be the person the boy could turn to.</p>
<p>The boy named Anthony Higgins.</p>
<p>Albert wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. As he lowered them, he glanced down at his injured nails. All of them were torn and jagged. One of them had ripped too far, exposing the sensitive skin that was now bleeding.</p>
<p>Despite how unsanitary it was, Albert found it a better idea to place the injured finger in his mouth to clear the blood rather than wipe it on his clothing. It was disgusting but far less painful. As he glanced around what he could of the alley, he tried to remember where he was.</p>
<p>Albert barely recalled how he ended up where he now sat. All he could remember was running from God knows where to find someplace private.</p>
<p>His eyes landed on the bag of newspapers he had yet to sell. Albert tooks his finger out of his mouth and gently pressed it on his jeans. He then pulled himself to his feet using the dumpster and managed to stumble over to his bag.</p>
<p>When he picked up the bag, he slung it across his shoulders. He just needed to sell twenty more papers and he can be done for the day.</p>
<p>Albert didn’t even bother to wait until he could properly stand before he exited the alley. After all, looking like absolute shit might get him some sympathy. But first, he needed to find a place to clean up – some sort of store where he could just go into the bathroom and wash himself.</p>
<p>Anything to keep the others from knowing.</p>
<p>By the end of the day, Albert had successfully sold the rest of his papers.</p>
<p>It was difficult at first. Some people didn’t want to come near him considering he looked like absolute death. It also didn’t help just how much he found himself coughing. Every couple minutes or so Albert was hacking up petals.</p>
<p>He was able to be discreet at least. He spat them into the palm of his hand and shoved them into his pockets. Every once and a while he’d empty his pockets into a dumpster when there were too many.</p>
<p>It was a daily routine at this point.</p>
<p>Cough, hide, dispose, repeat. Whenever lunch or dinner came around, Albert would swallow whatever came up to the point he barely had room to eat. Not that anyone noticed.</p>
<p>It became so ingrained into his daily life that Albert didn’t consider it a disease. It was just part of him.</p>
<p>For a while, he thought he was going insane. He thought his sanity was slipping because there was no way he could be coughing up petals. Given there were so few at first, it was a safe conclusion.</p>
<p>Days turned into weeks which turned into months. It wasn’t long until two years had passed and he came across an article that caught his eye.</p>
<p>
      <em>Hanahaki Disease, the Deadly Game of Love Me, Love Me Not.</em>
    </p>
<p>Albert read the article the moment he got some peace. Whether it was fate or sheer coincidence he found the title appealing was up for interpretation. The simple fact he had found it was yet another miracle.</p>
<p>It was then that he learned what was wrong with him and why all he could ever do was spit out petals. He learned just how rare it was in America.</p>
<p>Yet, ironically, he never learned how deadly the disease was.</p>
<p>Oh, Albert was suspicious alright, but it only hung in the back of his mind.</p>
<p>The article was what brought the revelation to him. It was what explained that he was sick. No, not an illness. Lovesick.</p>
<p>Hanahaki Disease, the disease of unrequited love. Only curable by being loved in return.</p>
<p>He vividly remembers how the world seemed to fall apart around him. The moment he figured out what was going on was the moment he shattered. There was nothing he could do.</p>
<p>Now, four months later, it had gotten so much worse.</p>
<p>There were many nights Albert found himself stuck awake, purging all of the petals he swallowed and coughing up absurd amounts of blood.</p>
<p>At one point he felt like his insides were being shredded as he was thrown into a coughing fit. Seconds felt like minutes as he struggled for air. He clawed at his throat and soon felt like his insides were being pulled out through his mouth when entire flowers had ripped their way free.</p>
<p>That night lasted longer than the rest.</p>
<p>Luckily, the entire afternoon had gone alright other than when he was stranded in the alleyway. Albert had made it to Jacobi’s just fine and the evening was going well until he started coughing again.</p>
<p>The first one caught him by surprise, leaving him stuck with a handful of petals and bloody strings of saliva trailing from his mouth. Albert quickly closed his fist and wiped his face before shoving the petals into his pocket.</p>
<p>He managed to make the rest of them seem like he’s just clearing his throat and was able to get everything back down. After doing this multiple times within ten minutes, the other newsies were starting to make fun of him. They teased him about getting into Race’s stash of cigars and getting ‘smokers lung’. Albert simply laughed along with them.</p>
<p>For a lot of the night, Albert hung around Race. Only this time, it wasn’t as clean as usual. It started to hurt to breathe to the point if felt like his lungs were cloudy per se. It was a gradual change though, so it wasn’t too bad. It was just something he would have to deal with until he could get some privacy again.</p>
<p>Albert and Race joked around for a while. They bickered back and forth with light-hearted arguments and proceeded to tag-team tackle Jack. It was fun to say the least. Albert was enjoying himself for the first time that day.</p>
<p>At one point, Race let slip and absolutely <em>horrible</em>, inappropriate joke about Jack and Davey that made Albert and the few others listening crumble into maniacal laughter.</p>
<p>Laughter that sent Albert into a coughing fit.</p>
<p>He didn’t say a word as he covered his mouth and shot to his feet. He stumbled from the table, trying to keep himself from coughing too much as he made his way to the bathroom. When he was finally there, he locked himself in the small room and collapsed by the toilet.</p>
<p>Albert got his wish: he stopped coughing. Though, that wasn’t exactly a good thing.</p>
<p>He started gagging, unable to cough as he sat there clutching the toilet. He felt as though someone had jammed a rod down his throat and didn’t even bother to pull it out.</p>
<p>It wasn’t long before he was dry heaving.</p>
<p>Each convulsion was sporadic as his body contorted. Albert could barely control how he moved as his mind zeroed in on the fact he couldn’t breathe. Every airway was blocked just right.</p>
<p>His nose started to burn, making his eyes bulge in shock. The same excruciating pain that used to be contained to his throat was now in his sinuses as he started gasping. He began to grasp at his neck, trying to somehow alleviate the pressure to inhale.</p>
<p>Albert became frantic when darkness started to creep from the edges of his vision. The only thing in his mind was a repetitive chant. <em>Need to breathe, need to breathe, need to breathe. </em></p>
<p>Another reflexive dry heave is what managed to push something into the back of his mouth. With the inability to cough it up or spit it out, Albert shakily reached into his mouth and shoved his hand as far back as possible. The action itself made him gag but he was able to snag a hold of what was in his throat.</p>
<p>When Albert started to pull, he began to choke. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he felt whatever he was pulling slice through his sinuses and throat. His gagging got worse as the tang of copper hit his tongue.</p>
<p>He kept tugging, even as he felt blood drip from his nose and mouth. Panic and adrenaline both became the driving forces that urged him to pull harder until he managed to rip an entire flower out, roots and all. Albert didn’t even get the chance to look at it before he fell into yet another coughing fit from trying to suck in air.</p>
<p>The adrenaline began to wear off when Albert was able to breathe around the blood pooling in his mouth. A pounding headache made itself known as he lifted the flower into his sight.</p>
<p>The red mum that lay in his hand was in perfect shape aside from the petals he tore. The stem that was attached was slick with blood, the roots even darker.</p>
<p>All because Race made him laugh.</p>
<p>Albert got up from the toilet and flushed it, wiping off the blood with his hands before proceeding to wash them and his face. It didn’t stop the bleeding within his sinuses but at least it wasn’t on his face anymore. He then bunched up the chrysanth and shoved it into his pocket.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure what to do afterward. The last time anything big came out it was just the flower itself and it never left his throat. <em>Never</em>. Anxiety was beginning to latch on as his mind started to race with questions.</p>
<p>Why was there a stem? Why were there roots? How did it grow so fast into his head?</p>
<p>No, he couldn’t think about that, not now. It’s not important.</p>
<p>He needed to keep the others from knowing.</p>
<p>When Albert returned to the rest of the newsies, Race went out of his way to ask if he was okay. Albert nodded and assured the other he was fine, he just was coming down with a cold.</p>
<p>That seemed to satisfy Race for the rest of the evening.</p>
<p>For the rest of dinner and the entire way back to the lodging, Albert continued to try and clear his throat and just swallow it all. He barely touched the sandwich Race had ordered him or opened his mouth to speak. He was as quiet as he could muster.</p>
<p>When they got to the lodging, Albert made a beeline for his room. He’s had his own for a while now, ever since he moved in actually. Almost everyone else had a roommate but with his disease…</p>
<p>Albert counted himself lucky.</p>
<p>He ignored Race calling after him, asking if he wanted to hang out before they went to bed. He ignored how much he wanted to say yes, how much his heart ached at his wish to stay with Race</p>
<p>Albert was quick to go upstairs and enter his room. He closed and locked the door behind him before staggering to his bed. He collapsed onto it without bothering to kick off his shoes.</p>
<p>Exhaustion held him like a puppet, forcing him to close his eyes and lay still. For a while, it worked. The world fell away around him as he slipped into unconsciousness.</p>
<p>The fitful sleep didn’t last long. Albert woke to his stomach churning</p>
<p>In hopes of stemming the nausea, Albert curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped around his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the pain, but it only grew worse. It weaved its way into his throat by the time he started to get worried.</p>
<p>The awful tickling sensation poked at his throat, causing Albert to start coughing. It was a small one at first – the typical dry cough at the start of a cold – but it grew. Within moments he was leaning over the edge of the bed and hacking. It was nonstop.</p>
<p>Saliva slowly dripped from his mouth, strands hanging as drops flew with every cough. Dry heaves joined rather quickly, leaving very little time for him to breathe normally.</p>
<p>The dry heaving took a turn for the worse as bile forced its way up. It fell to the floor in larger quantities, the sour fluids stinging his tongue as it carried large bunches of petals with it. Over and over, more petals and blood shoved its way out as Albert lay stranded and helpless. He couldn’t move as he wretched.</p>
<p>He was stuck.</p>
<p>The vomiting shifted back to coughing when he accidentally inhaled his own fluids. He was a sputtering mess that soon found his throat clogged once again.</p>
<p>Fear took hold and sent him into a frantic frenzy. Despite the fact he was convulsing and wheezing, Albert was able to get out of bed and fall to the floor. He landed on his hands and knees as his entire body shook with another ragged cough.</p>
<p>Cough after cough after cough, all getting stuck in his throat trying to dislodge whatever was there.</p>
<p>The moment it came loose, Albert gagged and spat up dozens of petals. They kept coming, each one managing to tickle his throat just right to stimulate even more coughs.</p>
<p>Drenched red petals fell below him, some sticking to the sides of his face. They covered the hardwood floor as well as his hands. Bile mixed with blood dribbled down his chin and seeped into his shirt as his hands were covered in even more bodily fluids.</p>
<p>At any other time, Albert would be outright disgusted. He would try and clean himself up and make a conscious effort to keep himself from messing everywhere. Alas, this was definitely not one of those times.</p>
<p>A weird feeling of something slithering up his throat made Albert gag yet again. It twisted its way up until it stabbed its way into his sinuses.</p>
<p>He tried to reach into his mouth like earlier that night but there was nothing he could grab. He merely sent himself further into a fit with more petals.</p>
<p>The pain was becoming unbearable and his airways were getting blocked. Whatever had come up was now weaving into his nose and ripping the sensitive tissue.</p>
<p>Albert gasped and crawled over to the door. He was growing delirious, unable to think and only following his instincts. He had no idea where he was going to go, but he knew he had to get out.</p>
<p>He reached up towards the lock and flipped it open before falling into another fit. A piercing pain blossomed in his chest, sending Albert into a moment of shock. It gripped his lungs tight, feeling as if hundreds of needles were stabbing them without hesitation.</p>
<p>Using this as motivation, Albert pulled himself to his feet using the door handle and opened the door. He stepped into the hallway and fell against the wall, unable to support himself. He used it to keep himself upright as he stumbled along.</p>
<p>He came across the door he was looking for and twisted his handle. By his luck, it was unlocked and he fell inside.</p>
<p>The boy that was on the bed might’ve been asleep for all Albert could tell. The hacking grew worse until it cut out. He couldn’t get a single noise out as what could only be full flowers completely shut off his airway.</p>
<p>Strings of saliva continued to fall as the flowers started to push their way out. As they did this, the needles in his chest turned to knives. He felt as though he was being shredded from the inside out, every attempted cough sending jolts of pain through his entire body.</p>
<p>Whatever was sliding through his head continued to move, now reaching for his ears and mouth. It poked and prodded everywhere until the next thing Albert knew, he couldn’t hear. A sharp pain radiated from his ears soon followed by the sticky flow of blood.</p>
<p>Albert wouldn’t have noticed that he had been moved if he hadn’t tried to blink away his tunnel vision. With his pointless attempts to breathe and everything he felt across his body, he didn’t feel the pair of hands that had grabbed him.</p>
<p>He almost didn’t see the worried face above him either. What Albert saw barely registered, though, as he tried to reach for his mouth again. That was when he truly began to choke.</p>
<p>His eyes shot open as the fully-bloomed flowers lodged themselves in his throat. He began to claw at his neck, the jagged nails slicing into his skin. Cut after cut, if he could just get it out-</p>
<p>Strong hands grabbed Albert’s and held them against his chest. Though, those soon disappeared when he felt something slimy trail along his face. From his ears to his nose to his mouth, it slid around and down to his neck.</p>
<p>Albert managed to blink away the darkness again to see the terrified boy above him one last time before the slimy tendrils slipped over his eyes. With one last splurge of energy, he tried to tear whatever it was off his face.</p>
<p>Except, his movements were weak. They grew slower despite Albert’s growing panic.</p>
<p>He couldn’t breathe.</p>
<p>He couldn’t see.</p>
<p>He couldn’t hear.</p>
<p>He was left clawing at his own body trying to free himself with one last frantic spark before that too faded.</p>
<p>A hand slid into Albert’s, their fingers interlocking.</p>
<p>Agonizing pain burst from his chest. Tendrils slid across his body.</p>
<p>And then, there was nothing.</p>
<p>Anthony Higgins sat there holding his best friend, tears streaming down his face as he fell into silent shock. Albert lay limp, beautiful red chrysanthemums blooming from his mouth as many more weaved across his face and body, twisting into a messy flower crown.</p>
<p>And they say love doesn’t kill.</p>
<p>It does. Just with it’s own cruel, ironic twist.</p></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I made myself cry writing this to be honest. I don't recommend writing angst.</p>
<p>Follow me on tumblr @alberts-hat &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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